


Is Your Band Ready?

by CongressIsAliens



Series: The Rando Bando September Saga [6]
Category: Marching Band/Colorguard/Drumline
Genre: Competition, Drum Major, Established Relationship, F/M, Front Ensemble, Kissing, Marching Band, One big-ass trophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-15 21:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16072127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongressIsAliens/pseuds/CongressIsAliens
Summary: Shako?Check.Gloves?Check.Cape?Check.“Mark time, HUT!”Cadence?Check.Let’s do this.





	Is Your Band Ready?

** Mid-March, Junior Year**

“You know what you should be senior year, Kaitlyn?”

”What?”

”Drum major.”

”What-wha-why-I mean I don’t have any experience...”

“Natalie didn’t have any when she started 2 years ago, and she’s graduating. Besides, you do have experience, you've conducted the youth symphony several times!” 

“I guess...”

”You should talk to Mr. Irving about it.”

”It probably would be pretty fun.”

"I mean, you don't have to. It's up to you."                 

"I'll think about it."

 

** Mid-August, Senior Year**

Band camp! 

Usually, for the pit, it means 2 weeks of learning music and getting new blisters. (That's one of the things I _don't_ miss.) But this year, I’m in the small gym with the marchers doing basics block.

I’m basically learning to march right now. As a senior. Frankly, it's a little embarrassing, considering I've been part of this band since 8th grade. 

It turns out, when we get to the field the next day, that I am useless at the following things: 

  * Reading drill charts
  * Reading dot sheets
  * Having an even 8-5 step size
  * Getting people to their dots
  * Knowing any marching terms



It feels like I’m a freshman, and while Elaine and the other marchers try to clue me in, I feel useless. Middle school all over again. 

Every day, before I go home, Elaine and I work on reading dots, drill charts, and conducting. Because, although I have some experience with it, marching band conducting is  _vastly_ different than orchestra conducting. We run the drill for the opener, and Elaine has me run through the opener, fixing her position according to the charts. Then we go over pep charts for a while, so I can practice conducting all of those. The Anthem, Celebration, Eye of the Tiger, the fight song, Celebration, even stuff we don't play often (but it's still in the pep packet), like September. We've played it 3 times, all on the same day, when we had a game on the 21st of September. 

By the end of band camp, I can kind of march, fix drill, conduct almost all of the pep charts, and can usually get within 1 beat of a tempo without a met. 

Our first field show is in a week, and I'm already nervous. 

 

** The First Game **

In the band room, it’s a flurry of activity as everybody is in various stages of dress. The pit is walking around in just bibs and shoes as they move stuff to the "staging area" near the stadium and play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to guard the stuff, instead of coming to the stands. Everyone else is just helping each other get dressed. I zip the back of Elaine’s jacket, then hook the top hook. Then she does my zipper up, all the while excitedly chatting. 

"I'm so excited! Even though this is my fourth first show of the year, I'm just so pumped!"

"I'm excited, but also really really nervous."

"Don't worry, we didn't spend all that time before and after rehearsal for nothing. You got this. Deep breaths."

"Thanks. Hey, uh, what are these?"

"Gauntlets. You put on your gloves, pull 'em apart, hold them against your body, push the velcro together, then adjust."

"Oh. Thanks."

"No problemo. You've never worn them, so, it's all ok. Also you need your plume for your shako and your cape."

"Where are the plumes?"

"Over there."

"Where?"

"In that oval case that looks like it has a bunch of paper towel tubes in it. Don't forget, they lean, so make sure they lean forwards, not backwards."

"Thanks. You should put your shoes on."

"Yes, I should. Thanks for reminding me!"

"No problem. See you later!"

"See you!"

**Before the performance**

The pep has gone well. Missed notes and rhythms happened, but it was the first game. That's to be expected. And somehow, we're walking on the field to the beat of a single snare, and I'm climbing the podium (which is also the pit cart) ladder instead of running around my marimba checking mikes, alignment, and helping the rack, like in years past. The crowd is chattering, the marchers are approaching their first sets, and the pit is giving the all-clear to Cassandra, who smiles and flashes a thumbs-up to me. I look down at Levi, who's center marimba (of course), and he winks at me encouragingly. I turn around and stand at attention. (yet another thing Elaine and I worked on during camp.)

"Drum Major Kaitlyn Greene, is your band ready?"

Punch. Salute. Down. And another thing I had to research/practice. Elaine made me watch a compilation of salutes and practice something. So I decided on a basic one. With more time, I'll work on a better one. And just like that, I was taking my shako off, turning around, raising my hands for the set and taking a deep breath.

"Presenting their show titled 'Shadow People', we are proud to present to you your very own Tigard High Marching Band!"

Breathe. 

5.

6.

5

6

7

8.

"There's a legend about shadow people, the people that only emerge when the sun goes down." 

The guard starts their choreography, the marchers hidden behind the props.

"They tiptoe hesitantly out of their hiding spots, and when the moon shines bright..."

The marchers emerge, forming an arc.

"...they begin to dance."

Cue the energetic tempo change  (from around like 90 bpm to about 160) and face-melting hit. 

The opener goes off fairly well (one alto sax crashed into the bell of a mellophone, but that was the only huge mess-up.)

And then we have to take everything down. We only had the opener prepared. Which was actually pretty good, in comparison to last year.  If I was still in the pit, I would have been frantically undoing mics from the hookup, unscrewing cymbals, winding cords, and shoving off the field hastily. But now it's shako on, climb down, and get at the head of the exit lines. Left, right, left, right off the field as the crowd cheers. (kind of.)

Then the fight song for the dance team, then the fight song for the football team, then up to the stands to get some fruit snacks. (yum fruit snacks!)

Later in the game, the pit gets back and Levi leans on the rail of the stadium podium to talk to me for a bit. 

"You looked great up there, beautiful."

"Thanks! I hope I didn't get off tempo too much..."

"From what I can tell, you were perfect."

A sudden roar from the crowd silences what I was about to say, as a football player was running for a long score. Levi runs off along the benches to get his cymbals and the band abandons their fruit snacks and hurriedly grabs their instruments for the fight song. (which goes about as well as you would think, with everyone scrambling to do it and in the process of eating/sitting down/decompressing) After we play it, everyone slowly sits down and resumes eating/talking/calming down after the HOLY CRAP I DIDN'T FALL DOWN excitement, and Levi makes his way in-between the battery and the flutes to continue our conversation (which after Irving returns from the bathroom, promptly gets interrupted). 

Tigard wins.

**After the Game**

It's rowdy in the band room after the game. The pep half of the band leaves ASAP (there are 2 bands, the pep ensemble which is just symphonic band, and the marchers. Only the marchers wear uniforms.) and the uniform mom explains how to put the jackets and bibbers away neatly. As the band follows her instructions and pulls off the rest of their uniforms, Levi comes up to me and sits next to me as I try (unsuccessfully) to untie the double knots in my shoelaces. 

"Chinese place?"

"Where else?"

It's kind of become a tradition with us to go get chinese food after our first field show. We also always walk there, and he always asks if I want him to hold my hand to warm it up. It's very cute. 

"Meet by the band room door?"

"Absolutely."

He kisses my cheek and stands up, heading to the entryway. 

Have I mentioned how much I freaking love my boyfriend?

**Championships Afternoon**

We're all standing around in our bibs and shoes, officially taking a water break, but everyone knows they don't want to work us super hard right now, so we're getting a lot of time for standing around. It's maybe an hour until showtime, finals time. 

I'm suddenly nervous.

"Hey there!"

"Ack! You scared me!"

"Well, hello to you too."

"You guys on break too, huh?"

"Well, yeah."

"I mean, duh, but,  _ugh_ , I forgot what I was going to say."

"You should eat something. You haven't eaten since we went to Shari's with the rest of the pit for lunch."

"I'm too nervous to eat."

"Why? You're going to do just fine! You've been practicing more than anybody else. Also, I do  _not_  want you passing out."

"i'm not going to pass out."

"Yes, but I worry about you."

"Don't."

"I'm your boyfriend, it's my  _job."_

"Really?"

"Yes. Here, I have a granola bar in my shorts pocket.  One second... here, eat this."

"Fine. I'm still nervous, though."

"Listen to me. You've spent hundreds, thousands of hours working on being the best you can be. And tonight, it's time to let it show. You've got this. I love you."

I step forwards and pull him into a hug, just as our visual tech calls us over to do a short basics block. 

"I love you too."

**Championships Performance**

Shako?

Check. Perfectly straight, plume forwards, brim at the perfect angle. 

Gloves?

Check. Just washed, fitting to the shape of my hands. And my gauntlets are perfectly straight and shining.

Cape?

Check. Fluttering slightly in the breeze of the tunnel's fan, the green underside showing. 

“Mark time, HUT!”

Cadence?

Check. Sometimes the drumline does a fancy cadence, one they call Turbo Mouse. But today, it's just the center snare, JT, beating a simple rhythm.

Let’s do this.

I climb up to the top of the podium, watching as the band moves to the opening sets. I can almost feel the slight aura of nerves coming off the band. 

The pit, one by one, gives me the A-OK. 

"Are the judges ready?"

Slight pause.

"Drum major Kaitlyn Greene, is your ensemble ready?"

I half-expect someone in the crowd to yell the classic "They're always ready!"

But no one does. 

I pivot, and do my salute. It's mostly the same, but I added a little flashy bit with the cape in it. It's there for a reason, right?

I turn towards the band, remove my shako, and raise my hands for set. 

"The NWAPA is prrrrrrrroud to present (pause) the Tigard High School Marching Band in the finals competition!"

5. 

6.

5

6

7

8.

"There's a legend about shadow people, the people that only emerge when the sun goes down." 

The guard starts their choreography, a dance that brings them from under their flag silks out into the view of the audience.  

"They tiptoe hesitantly out of their hiding spots, and when the moon shines bright..."

The marchers emerge from behind the props, forming an arc.

"...they begin to dance."

Cue the face-melting hit. 

The opener is a mix of the Can-Can and Moonlight Sonata, and while it sounds like it might be strange, it's actually a marvelous piece. And in just 2 minutes, the last note rings out in the stadium, echoing into the night. 

"But not all the shadow creatures get along. In fact, some are bitter rivals."

The ballad starts, a mysterious and creepy song that culminates in an epic duel between the halves of the guard. Half the guard spins sabres, the other half with bright white swing flags that stand out from the green of the turf and their uniforms. 

Soon the ballad is over, the entire band, guard, and drumline are facing each other in a stand-offish way. 

"But no matter the quarrels, the shadow people have one common goal."

The closer is a 3-minute piece inspired by Brahms mixed with a little blues and a little jazz. Again, an odd combo, but I didn't arrange the music. It's packed with breathtaking sets and stunning choreography, including a lift sequence in the guard. Our visual tech and colorguard arranger had a field day with this one. They seriously went nuts- and the hours of practice and attention to detail pay off here as the forms look perfect and the almost-ending set, a rotating "cube" (seriously, the band proper is the square, and the drumline/guard is the interior) has never looked cleaner. 

Then the band and drumline jazz-runs behind the props (Yes, I had to learn to jazz run. Yes, it wasn't pretty.) The guard grabs their starting flags and hides under them on the fifty. The pit ducks behind the keyboards/synth cart and Emily ducks behind the concert bass in the rack. I dart down the ladder and hide behind the pit cart/podium. The field looks vacant as the final voiceover triggers.

"To hide before the piercing rays of sunlight hit the shadows of their skin."

I quickly climb atop my podium and face the audience, taking a small bow, then gesturing to the empty field behind me as the crowd cheers. 

As I climb down from the podium, it hits me. 

_I just did my last show. And I conducted it all._

I'm not sure how to feel about that. 

**Awards Ceremony**

I am standing on the 50 yard line, on the front sideline, all by myself. 

Well, technically, not by myself, because I'm surrounded on both sides by drum majors from other schools. They all have at least two, but at Tigard, there's only me. The two drum major pairs on either side of me are holding trophies for their bands. 

Everybody but us has been called, and every band member knows why. 

"And with a score of 90.63, ninety point six three, your NWAPA A Class Champions, Tigard High School!"

We won...and with the highest score out of everybody! We beat the circuit record of 89.75! We beat our record!

I step forward, left right left right, and salute like I'm not jumping and screaming inside. Even though I am. 

The trophy, I shit you not, is 4 and a half feet tall. 

The guy handing out medals puts one over my neck and hands me the fake silver platter with the medals for the rest of band. (the platter is made of plastic, and usually the backfield drum major passes out the medals while the head drum major poses for a picture.) 

The drum majors all head back to their bands and start to leave, heading back to their lots to change and go home. It's literally 12:30 AM. I pull 2 guard people aside and tell them to start passing out medals to the senior leaders of the sections. Levi comes forward, dragging Elaine behind him, and asks her to take a picture of the two of us. We actually take three. One with the two of us holding the trophy and grinning, and two where we're doing a dip kiss with the trophy in front of our faces. One focused on us, one on the trophy. 

On the bus ride home, with almost everyone asleep, Levi pulls out his phone and shows me the pictures.  The plain one looks ok, and the posed ones look great. My cape hangs down just right, the trophy is positioned just right, everything is perfect. 

Just before I nod off, Levi whispers,

"Aren't you glad I suggested you be drum major?"

"Absolutely."

 


End file.
